Of all the aftereffects to come out following Michael Vick's announcement that he'll be pleading guilty, the one that amazes us the most is that he's gonna have to admit, out loud, that the indictment against him is true. That's not something one can spin; he's gonna have to say, to a judge and to the world, that he electrocuted puppies.

We knew Vick was in deep trouble when he became a story that people who don't care about sports started to care about. It's the Nancy Grace Rule: Once a sports story crosses over to the cable gabfests, it's not about sports anymore, and it has nothing to do with Vick, or the Falcons, or the NFL (or, to use another example, Duke University). All that matters is that the woman down the hall of your office who wouldn't know Peyton Manning if he were standing in front of her is suddenly saying, "He should have to go through the same thing he put those dogs through," even though she couldn't tell you what position Vick plays. That, friends, is when Vick was toast. We'll find out just how toast on Monday.